


Much Ado About Vulcan (Spock/OC Slow-build Romance)

by thearrowsoflegolas



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Angst, Basically because im in love with Zachary Quinto, But teh plot is good as well, F/M, Fluff, It just takes a while, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Spock - Freeform, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Human Romance, but not like its weird, darling - Freeform, dont worry, my, shes like 23, slow burn as fuck, slow-build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:16:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearrowsoflegolas/pseuds/thearrowsoflegolas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of love, laughs and logarithms. <br/>Alex Birchwood is stuck with the math elective in her final year of medical training, a class that happens to be taught by the most disagreeable Vulcan she has ever had the misfortune of meeting, Commander Spock. <br/>Spock and Alex take an instant dislike to each other, but as unavoidable circumstances push them closer together, will these feelings change? Be warned: VERY slow-burn ;)</p>
<p>Reveiws: (from ff.net) </p>
<p>I don't usually review but I feel this fanfic deserves it as it captures the characters amazingly, the writing is witty and spectacular, the story is awesome and I am always left wanting more, thank you for providing this fanfic, it's amazing. Also I look forward to more sass between Spock and Birchwood. - luckystar283</p>
<p>I really like this story so far, good writing! I can't wait to read more. I really like these kind of set ups in stories, the whole teacher/student, hate-at-first-sight type set up, some humour thrown in there, classic. Can't beat it. - Absynthe Verte</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Dissapointing Discovery

The alarm rang with a blaring whistle, and I sighed deeply, before slamming it roughly with my hand, switching it off. Five O'bloody clock. Too early to wake up, too late to go back to sleep. I had to be early today, though. Today was the first day of my 5th year in Starfleet, the last year of my medical training. At the end of this year, I would be a doctor.

Dr. Alex Birchwood.

I liked the sound of that.

Yawning, I dragged myself out of bed and towards my small bathroom, looked in the mirror and groaned. I looked like shit. My dark curly hair, usually styled in a long plait down my right shoulder, was sticking up in all directions, making my already pale face look even paler, and my light blue eyes were surrounded by the black smudge of yesterday's unwashed mascara. I ran my fingers through my unruly hair, trying in vain to slightly decrease the volume of it, before giving up, and switching on my shower.

"Waatimes it?" I heard a slurred mumble from outside the bathroom door.

"What?" I yelled back, peeling off my pyjamas and stepping into the stream of hot water.

"What time is't Alex?" Came the voice again, slightly more comprehensible this time.

"Ten past five. Get your green ass out of bed, T'yonga. It's learnin' time."

"GAAAHHHHHH" came the annoyed scream from T'yonga, my Orion roommate.

As roommates go, she was a pretty good one. She was two years older than me, at twenty five, and despite constantly leaving our shared accommodation in a state that made it look like the Somme, was one of the best friends I could ask for. Yes, living with her meant that my bathroom was constantly covered in dark green foundation and pink lipstick, but what she lacked in cleanliness, she made up for in enthusiasm and counsel. I could always rely on her to make me feel better in a scrape.

I bent down and grabbed the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount onto my hand, and massaging it into my scalp, relaxing as the scent of apple bubbles filled my nostrils. Rinsing it off, I watched the green bubbles make their way down the plughole, which was blocked with strands of T'yonga's bright red hair. I applied conditioner, rinsed, then switched the shower off, stepping out into the steamy bathroom, and beginning to brush the knots out of my long hair.

I wrapped a towel around myself, then stepped out of the bathroom to be faced with a flash of green skin.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE T'YONGA!" I yelled, spinning around and closing my eyes, "CLOTHES. THEY ARE A WONDERFUL THING."

She laughed, a low husky sound, I heard her walk off, her feet padding on the wooden floor, "You're just jealous of my ample bosom,"

"My bosom is perfectly ample, thank you very much," I replied, hiding a giggle with a cough.

I turned around to a (thankfully) empty room, and dropped my towel, rooting in my dresser for underwear. I settled on a plain black set, before taking my blue regulation Starfleet shirt out of my wardrobe. I slipped it on and said a quick thank-you to whatever deity was out there that it still fit, as I'd put on a few pounds over the summer. I wiggled into a pair of skinny black jeans and put on my black boots, before chucking a black leather jacket into my satchel, and following T'yonga into our little kitchen. As much as I complained about it, the student accommodation in Starfleet was pretty decent.

I had been nervous when I had moved from London to America five years ago to pursue my dream of becoming a doctor on a Starship, but despite my apprehensions, I had been greeted with nothing but welcoming smiles and rooms with en suite bathrooms.

T'yonga was sat on the kitchen counter, thankfully in underwear, a black and pink lacy number that I was sure did not pass Starfleet dress code regulations.

"Chuck us the milk, would you?" I asked, as I opened a cupboard and took out a plastic container of cereal.

I poured myself a bowl, and ducked just in time to stop a two litre bottle of milk slamming into my skull. It whizzed past me and slammed into the wall behind me, falling to the floor.

"IT'S AN EXPRESSION!" I yelled, my heart banging in my ears. "I DID NOT LITERALLY MEAN 'CHUCK'!"

She laughed, and I walked over to the milk on the floor, picking it up and unscrewing the cap before pouring a generous amount on my cereal and digging in with a spoon.

"Orions don't-" T'yonga started

"-Have metaphors, yeah, I get it, ok. Try not to decapitate me with dairy products next time."

She grinned, before jumping off the counter and sashaying into the shared bedroom.

"So what's going on with your elective this year?" I heard her ask, her voice muffled by the wooden door between us.

My elective, of course. I'd almost forgot. In the final year, all Maths or Science students could pick an 'elective'. A subject to study alongside their main one for the year.

"Well, I put my name down for Biochemistry, but it's always the most popular, so I can't be sure of getting it."

"Whos's it with?"

"Professor McCormack." I responded, waiting for the shitstorm that was to follow.

"McCORMACK!" T'yonga yelled, peeking her head out from behind the door, her red curls bouncing up and down in excitement, "OH HE IS GORGEOUS!"

"And a member of the faculty…" I reminded her.

"I can't believe you got McCormack you lucky bastard," she continued, ignoring my voice of reason, "I'd let him study my biochemistry any day of the week."

I couldn't help but laugh, as she bounced out of the bedroom in her own red dress, her long legs looking even longer in the 3 inch heels that she had slipped on.

I raised an eyebrow at them and she snickered.

"Rules are made to be broken, Alex…"

"I don't even know if I've got McCormack this year," I continued, taking out my PADD and logging on with my Starfleet username, "It was the most requested elective last year, and they go by first come first serve."

"Well of course it was the most requested! It's taught by an Irish god who's face was carved by angels. I swear, that man could talk to me about shipping forecasts and I'd be enthralled."

I rolled my eyes and placed my PADD on the kitchen table, quickly scraping my thick hair into a long plait down my shoulder, and freeing a few dark curls to frame my face, before looking back to my PADD, which had finished loading.

"Sooo…?" encouraged T'yonga, "Are you going to have a dip into McCormack's pot of gold or not?"

I shook my head and smiled at her, "You are incorrigible," before tapping the screen to bring up my timetable.

Shit.

"I've not got Biochem." I said, disappointment running through me.

"Awww babe…" replied T'yonga.

"Shit. I was looking forward to that…"

"Well what have you got?"

"Maths." I said dismally.

"Math," she emphasised the lack of an 's'. "You're in America, darling. Jam is jelly, scones are biscuits, chips are fries and maths is math."

I smiled at her, "You're from an entirely different planet 'yonga, don't give me that redneck pride."

"Who've you got math with then?" she asked, "It better not be Professor Dilligen, because I swear that guy tried to cop a feel of my ass two years ago. "

"No, it's not with Dilligen," I said.

"Then who's it with, stop leaving me hanging…"

"A Vulcan." I sighed, "Fantastic." The sarcasm in my voice could have cut through the air. A year with a Vulcan meant a year with no fun.

"What's his name?"

"Commander Spock."


	2. Ears Burning?

T'yonga was a lifesaver. My car had, naturally, broken down, so she had given me a lift to campus in her, much more modern one.

"You're really going to have to get yourself a flying car eventually, you know," she chastised me, as we glided along the busy roads, the car floating a few feet off the ground "Wheels are so outmoded, and they break down so much easier. Life is better without the fear of a puncture…"

I nodded along to her moaning, but wasn't really paying attention. I was still seething that I hadn't got onto the Biochemistry elective. I'd been looking forwards to it all summer.

"I was first in three out of four of my classes last year." I butted in, cutting her silent, "I can't believe that they didn't place me with McCormack. It's ridiculous. What am I going to learn in advanced mathematics that's going to help me practice medicine?"

She looked over at me, her curly red hair tied up in a bun, strands of coils escaping from it in all directions, "I know, honey, I know. I'd be pissed if I missed out on a year with McCormack too…"

"It's not about McCormack…" I continued, and she snorted with derision, "I just wanted to get onto that subject, that's all."

"Well you never know," she reassured, "You might enjoy math."

"I enjoy the subject, I doubt I'll enjoy the teaching…" I muttered.

I'd had Vulcan teachers before. All logic and no fun, which not only meant that they didn't allow experimentation, something that I had a craving for, but they didn't allow alternative methods. If I worked out an equation a different way than how my previous Vulcan professors taught me, they would mark me wrong. It was infuriating.

The car pulled to an abrupt stop as T'yonga parked outside Starfleet cadet headquarters, and stepped out. I followed suit, and she locked the car door behind her and pocketed the keys. The first day of the year was always busy, and cadets were milling around, chatting to each other, hanging out in big groups outside the science buildings and catching up after 2 months of summer holidays. I spotted the first years, in uniforms too big for them, looking at maps that were larger than themselves and trying to find their first lecture room. The second years were also easy to spot, they still looked young, but had slightly too much bravado in that 'I survived first year' kind of way.

"I'm sure Commander Spock isn't that bad," continued T'yonga. She had been talking whilst we were walking, but I'd zoned her out.

"He's Vulcan, 'yonga. No fun, no rule-breaking, no improvisation."

"Vulcans can be hot," she said, in an attempt to brighten my mood.

"If you thought with your brain half as much as you thought with your vagina you'd be passing mechanics with flying colours." I shot back, and she merely gave me a large grin, her white teeth flashing against her green skin.

"I'm Orion, darling, that's what I do."

"Well I'm pretty sure a year getting taught by a Vulcan won't be much fun, T'yonga. I don't think Vulcans do fun."

A tall man stormed past us at a fast pace, looking at us both with distaste as he strode. He was wearing the Starfleet blue shirt that symbolised a science worker, and his dark hair was cut in an unusual style, with a very short fringe. His eyebrows, the same dark colour as his hair, were pointed. It wasn't until he stormed past us towards the maths building that it registered with me.

His ears ended in a sharp point.

Ah shit.

"Was… was that a Vulcan?" I whispered, and T'yonga giggled.

"I think it was…" she replied, "He was cute, though…"

"Do you think he heard us talking?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Probably," she admitted.

"Oh God, it's only my first day, and I've already managed to anger one of the students. Let's hope I don't see him anywhere else." I muttered, as I watched him walk into the building.

"Well, he is in the maths building, I can't guarantee that you won't bump into him, as much as you don't like it, you're taking maths this year honey."

"Bollocks." I continued, "I hope the guy isn't in my class…"

We walked in silence for a while, the guilt of offending the Vulcan student still playing on my mind. We both sat down on a bench, and were soon joined by friends. Su Ling, another medical student, and her boyfriend, Ian, who was studying applied physics. They had both gone to China over the summer to visit Su Ling's parents, and were full of energy talking about their trip.

"Who did you get for elective?" I asked Su Ling, and she grinned massively.

"Biochem. McCormack. You?"

I sighed. "Maths."

She grimaced in sympathy, whilst Ian laughed out loud.

"The Vulcan?" he asked, "That's going to be a dull year for you, Birchwood."

I nodded in agreement, whilst T'yonga was too busy fanning herself with her hand at the thought of Professor McCormack. "You're going to have to watch your back, Ian," she laughed, "If I was in McCormack's class I'd leave you right away!"

Su Ling giggled, and ruffled Ian's long blonde hair, whilst he pouted comically, "Don't you worry, Ian," she insisted, "I'm not going to leave you for an Irish Biochemist, no matter how gorgeous he may be."

"Well I may end the year dead from boredom with the classes I have lined up for me, so…" I grumbled, and Su Ling patted me on the back.

"I'm sure he won't be that bad, Alex…" she reassured me, but her face said otherwise.

I glanced at my watch and sighed, it was ten to nine. Time for me to set off for my first class.

"Time to go guys," I said, gathering up my belongings and logging onto my PADD.

My first lecture was… maths.

Fantastic. Start the day with a bang.

"Enjoy McCormack, Su Ling," called T'yonga, wiggling her plucked eyebrows as Su Ling rolled her eyes and grinned, before walking off in the direction of the science building, where I desperately wanted to be going.

"Where are you off to?" asked T'yonga, catching up with me easily with her long legs.

"Maths," I replied, grumbling.

"Me too," she said, as she linked my arm and dragged me unwillingly towards the looming maths building, and we joined the throng of students trying to squeeze through the slightly-too-small double doors.

"What room are you in?" asked T'yonga, "I'm in 1507."

"2401." I replied, reading the number off my PADD.

"See you in a bit then. Enjoy." And with a conspiratorial wink, she set off in the opposite direction.

I headed towards the stairs. The first digit of the room number corresponded with the floor that the room was on, so I would need to be on floor 2 for my first maths lesson. Jogging up the stairs, I glanced at my watch. Five to nine. I hoped that I could find my way to room 401 before my nine O'clock start. If there was one things that Vulcans liked, it was punctuality.

The corridors were clearing, and I ran down them, glancing at the room numbers. "399, 400, 401."

I burst through the door, panting heavily, to see all the students already sat down, and looking at me like I had just grown an extra head. Considering that there was a girl in the front row who did actually have an extra head, I found it quite offensive.

"Sorry, sorry…" I muttered as I squeezed my way past grumbling students until I made my way to a spare seat on the second row in the middle. I plonked myself down and got my books and calculator out of my bag, before glancing up at the teacher's desk.

A tall Vulcan was stood facing the blackboard at the front of the class, his back to us.

"Now that we're all here…" he said in a low American accent, "Shall we begin?"

He turned around, and my blood went cold. The face, the eyebrows, the ears, the judgemental expression…

He was the Vulcan from the courtyard. The Vulcan who had most likely overheard me insulting his race. The Vulcan who was now giving me the stink-eye like I was a piece of shit that ended up on the bottom of his shoe.

This was going to be an interesting lesson.


	3. A Bad Start

"Good morning class 5B. My name is Commander Spock, and I shall be teaching your math elective this year."

Ok. Don't panic, Alex.

"Despite the lack of punctuality from some of you," he ran his eyes over the students in the class, before focusing them on me, the look of distaste in his eyes making me squirm, "I am sure that you will find my lessons engaging and useful."

I sighed inaudibly.

This was going to be a long year, considering that the professor already hated my guts. I was beginning to regret sitting too close to the front of the classroom. I glanced around at the students immediately surrounding me, and noticed that each student had a large, thick grey calculator sat on their desks. I glanced down at my, much smaller silver one, and felt my face flush.

I had the wrong calculator.

Mine, a small simple calculator, could work out the basic calculations that I needed for my medical studies, however the graphical calculators on the desks of my peers were much more useful in a mathematics based setting.

Ah shit.

"If nobody has any initial questions, I'll begin." started the Commander, as he turned his back to the class and began to write a complicated expression on the interactive whiteoard.

"I… um… Sir?" I asked, raising my hand, and he turned back, chalk in his hand.

"Yes?" he replied, the contempt audible in his voice, his left eyebrow raised in an expression of disbelief at being interrupted.

"I… I have the wrong calculator…"

There was a low giggle that ran through the room, but I ignored it as best I could. My face didn't need to get any redder than it already was.

"You have the wrong calculator?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Um yes… I… I just have an ordinary one," I explained, holding up the thin grey calculator to prove it, much to the chagrin of the Commander.

"I can see that, yes." He sighed in exasperation and walked behind his desk, rooting in one of the small drawers and pulling out one of the larger graphical calculators.

He walked over to my desk and loomed over me, silently placing the calculator firmly in front of me, before striding back to the front of the class, and standing in front of us all with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"I assure all of the rest of you have managed to follow the simple instructions that I gave you at the end of last year?" he continued.

The room was silent, which the Commander took as an affirmative, and he nodded his head in approval, before turning back around and continuing to write on the board.

At the end of last year?! I had only found out that I was in the maths elective that morning! All of the students here must have already enrolled for maths by last June! Well, naturally, they would have their bloody graphical calculators, wouldn't they?

The Commander continued to write on the board, whilst I lifted up the hefty calculator and turned it over. A large sticker with 'Math dept.' covered the back of it. I turned it over again, and examined its front. There were more buttons than I knew what to do with. I didn't even know how to switch the bloody thing on, let alone calculate the log algorithm that Commander Spock had now finished on the board.

"Psst," came a voice next to me, and I spun my head around to see a human girl with curly blonde hair, green eyes and a small smile on her face.

She pointed to a small black button on the top left of her calculator and pressed it, and the screen came to life.

The 'on' button. Thank hell.

"Thank you!" I mouthed at her, switching on the calculator and letting out a large sigh of relief as the screen flashed on.

"No problem," she mouthed back, smiling, and turning back to her workbook.

Okay, so at least I had made one friend. That was a good start.

I looked forwards at the equation on the board and sighed. It had been five years since I had last had a maths lesson, so I hoped that my memory would serve me well. The calculator was looking better now that it was switched on, so I opened my notebook, got out my pen and started jotting.

 

"Nobody?" Asked Commander Spock from the front of the room, hands behind his back, foot tapping on the floor.

The girl next to me put her hand up hesitantly.

"Yes, Miss Johnson?" he asked impatiently.

"Umm… x=43 sir?" she answered unconfidently.

The commander audibly sighed, and imperceptibly shook his head.

"You are students in your final year studying at one of the most prestigious institutes in the United States. Don't tell me you can't evaluate a simple logarithm equation?"

Simple was a bit over an exaggeration. The equation was tremendously difficult, and required both integration and differentiation in different parts. I wasn't surprised that people had found it so hard.

The class remained silent. The Commander had given us the whole lesson to work in silence to attempt to solve the equation, and so far, nobody had managed to correctly evaluate x. I had an answer down on my paper, scribbled hastily in black biro pen, but I wasn't confident with it. However, as every other student in the class had answered, all wrongly, I figured I might as well give it a go.

I raised my hand tentatively, and the Commander looked over at me.

"Yes Miss…?" he asked, leaving the end of the sentence open, asking me for my name.

"Birchwood. Alex Birchwood, sir."

"Yes, Miss Birchwood?" he continued, "Have you forgotten another item of equipment? A pen? Paper? Your basic math skills, perhaps?"

I raised my eyebrows in shock. I understood that Vulcans didn't like forgetfulness, but a response that harsh was unwarranted. There were a few chuckles from the back of the classroom, but most of the class remained silent. My eyes stung but I stuck my nails into my palms to prevent me from crying. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he'd got to me.

I glanced to the blonde girl on my left, and she gave me an encouraging smile, so I continued.

"No sir." I said in a strong voice, "I have an answer."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, and he nodded his head at me, an invitation to continue.

"Well by all means, Miss Birchwood, share it with the class."

I glanced back down at my paper, double checking my calculations.

"Um, I got x=12.43, sir."

He was silent.

"12.43?"

"Yes, sir. Well, I mean, that's what I got, at least… I'm not sure if it's right"

He looked down at his working out, then back at me, a look of mild surprise on his pointed features.

"That is correct, Miss Birchwood," he said, almost reluctantly.

The class was silent. Ha fucking ha you judgemental piece of shit.

"Oh." I replied, ever so eloquently.

"Would you like to share with the class how you got to that answer?" he continued, inviting me to the front of the class.

Well, I've come this far…

I stood up, grabbing my paper, scraping my chair on the floor and walking to the large whiteboard, my heavy black boots loudly clunking on the wooden panelling as I made my way to the front. The Commander handed me the interactive pen, gave me an unreadable look, and sat down behind his desk, watching me intently. I started scribbling, copying down the working out on my notepad.

"When I got to this bit," I explained, continuing to write whilst I talked, "I made sure to keep both the x and the plus four in the brackets before squaring them together, not separately."

I heard a few groans from the rear of the classroom, and assumed that some people had just realised their mistake.

"And with all that completed, x equals 12.43."

I placed the pen back on the Commander's desk and made my way back to my seat, getting a subtle thumbs up from the Klingon girl next to me. As I sat back down in my seat, the bell rang, signifying the end of the class. Commander Spock stood back up and surveyed the students, not looking at me.

"Your assignments will be emailed to you following this class. I expect them completed in full by your next lesson, which will be held on Wednesday after lunch. I hope that I can rely on you to all come fully prepared."

Though the last part of his sentence was obviously directed at me, he looked straight ahead at the back of the room whilst he said it.

"You are dismissed,"

The room erupted into conversation and movement as thirty students all stood up at once and begun packing their things into their bags. I stayed sat for a few moments, then pushed my chair back and roughly shoved my notepad and pens into my leather satchel. I grabbed the graphical calculator and walked up to the Commander's desk. He was already sat down behind it, preparing his notes for his next class. I placed the calculator down in front of him, and he looked up under hooded eyes, a completely neutral expression on his face.

"Thanks for letting me borrow this, sir." I said. I might as well attempt to patch things up between us.

"I trust that you will acquire one for your next lesson?" His tone was unreadable and emotionless.

"Yes, sir."

He nodded in approval, and turned his attention back to his papers.

"You are dismissed."

Okay. So making friends with the moody Vulcan wasn't going to work for me. I bowed my head respectfully, feeling anything but respectful, and wheeled around, stomping out of the classroom and resisting the childish urge to slam the door behind me.

"Pretentious arsehole…" I muttered as soon as I was sure that I was out of earshot.

"Spock, you mean?" came a female voice from behind me, and I spun around to see the blonde girl from my maths class come up behind me, a smirk on her face, "He was harsh on you. Like, really harsh."

I nodded in agreement, "Well, besides being late and forgetting my equipment, I'm pretty sure that he walked past my friend and I bitching about him this morning. I guess his irritation wasn't entirely unwarranted…"

The corner of her mouth twisted up in a smile, and she held out her hand to me.

"I'm Jackeline. You can call me Jackie though." She had a Southern drawl of an accent.

"Alex," I introduced myself, shaking her proffered hand, glad to have found someone in my maths class that actually liked me, "And I should thank you for helping me out with the calculator. Do you have any idea where I could get one of those?"

"No problem," she said, "And I'm pretty sure that the college stationary shop does them. They're pretty expensive though, about eighty dollars."

I raised my eyebrows at the extortionate price, and sighed, "Looks like I won't be eating this week, then."

She smiled in sympathy.

"So that accent," she continued, "You're a Brit, huh?"

I smiled at that. It was one of the first things that many people noticed about me.

"London girl born and raised," I answered, "My parents and big brother still live there, I go back every now and then, for Christmas and Easter and things, you know…"

Jackie nodded in understanding, "Yeah I get it. I haven't seen my parents in years. It's not often I get to go back home."

She left the sentence hanging, and I figured that she had left something unsaid. Not wanting to pry into something that was obviously personal, I decided to hold back on the questions for the time being.

I glanced at my watch.

"Ah shit, I'm late for dissection." I grumbled, and she smiled.

"Let's hope it's not another Vulcan. We know how well being late for them turns out…" she joked.

"No, thank God." I responded with a laugh, "It's with Dr. McCoy. Leonard McCoy? You heard of him?"

"Yeah, the hot lumberjack, right?"

I let out a burst of laughter. Yeah, that pretty much summed him up. Dr. McCoy had been my dissection teacher for the last five years of my education, so we had become decent friends, much to the jealousy of T'yonga, who had fancied him as long as I could remember.

"My friend is basically in love with him." I confessed, and Jackie smiled, showing a flash of teeth.

"Yeah I don't blame her. Well, enjoy yourself." She waved and walked off in the opposite direction, as I continued out of the Mathematics Building towards the Medical Building. Hopefully my day could only get better...


	4. Guts and Gossip

Dissection was surprisingly uneventful.

We were presented immediately after entering the room with a complete female adult Gorn cadaver, alongside innumerable incomplete body parts from other species, and asked to examine them. The full dead body lying on a metal slab took many of the students by surprise, but after five years, I'd lost my ability to freak out over death.

I'd learnt that it was just an inescapable part of life.

Five minutes into my turn with the scalpel on the Gorn, when I was up to my wrists in brain-matter searching for a hypothalamus, Dr. McCoy appeared behind my shoulder.

"Found it yet, Treebeard?" he asked me, leaning over the table to get a closer look at what I was doing, his white scrubs covered in a mysterious green liquid that I didn't even want to ask about.

"Treebeard? Still? Seriously. I'm twenty-three, doctor…" I quipped back.

Since my first lesson with him five years ago, Dr. McCoy had jokingly referred to me as Treebeard, and it didn't look like he was going to stop any time soon.

'Treebeard' was a character in 'The Lord of the Rings' trilogy, a set of books written by author J.R.R Tolkein, whom I had studied in high school for my 'Ancient Literature' unit of English. 'Treebeard' was a member of a mythical species, the 'Ents', who were walking, talking tree-people. They were responsible for the protection of their forest, and their kind.

In my first dissection lesson, I had made the mistake of mentioning that I used to be a member of Greenpeace. That, my love of Tolkein's work, and my surname 'Birchwood' had led Dr. Leonard McCoy to a invent nickname that had lasted five years.

"Seriously," he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile, "Now hurry up your chopping, cadet, we don't have all day. Do you have that hypothalamus or not?"

I stuck my tongue out of the corner of my mouth, dug slightly deeper into the Gorn brain, and finally reached my goal.

"Yes. Yes I do." I replied proudly, holding up a small, smooth section of the brain with my pair of metal tweezers, now covered in blood.

"Excellent." Dr. McCoy replied, patting me on the back as I placed the hypothalamus in a small metal container, ready for inspection under a microscope, and wiped my bloody hands on my white scrubs.

First day back and I was already covered in blood. Typical.

Dissection was one of my favourite aspects of studying medicine. Despite the fact that I often went home smelling like a morgue, I found it fascinating to see how the anatomies of different species compared to each other.

That, and the fact that on some days, you just need to chop a dead body up to feel better about yourself.

Today was an example of the latter.

I set down my pair of tweezers on the table, pushed a dark curl out of my face and walked off to join a group of my peers, who had congregated around the cold inanimate torso of what appeared to be a Klingon.

"Anything interesting in there?" I asked, having snuck up behind them, all engrossed in their work.

Su Ling, a healthy pair of Klingon lungs in her hand, spun around to look at me and beamed.

"Alex!" she exclaimed in surprise, "Biochem was amazing!"

I cursed inwardly, I'd almost forgotten. Of course biochem was amazing, biochem was always going to be amazing. I was trying my best to forget about the disastrous events of that morning's maths lesson, but they were all suddenly flooding back to me in vivid technicolour.

"We did intrinsic proteins in the first lesson! The first lesson!" she gushed, before noting my downcast expression and toning down her enthusiasm.

"Ah shit, sorry…" she muttered, remembering how much I had wanted to get into the biochemistry elective, "How was math?"

I shook my head, not even wanting to discuss how terribly the lesson had gone.

I'd been publicly humiliated in front of the whole class for forgetting an object that I didn't even know that I was supposed to bring. Every other student would have known to have a graphical calculator to hand, after being told about it in their maths prep meeting. A meeting that I never even attended.

To make matters worse, I wasn't even given an ounce of congratulation when I solved the equation that nobody else could. I was just given a cold look and asked to explain it to the rest of the class.

I didn't know what I'd done to piss of the Vulcan so much, but I bloody well wish that I could take it back.

"That bad, huh?" she asked, taking my lack of a response as an answer.

I nodded, and she sighed.

"Sorry about that, Birchwood."

"Yeah, well I've got a year of Vulcan hatred to live through before I get my degree…" I grumbled, feeling decidedly very sorry for myself.

"Well you've only got him three days a week. That's something, huh?"

Surprisingly, her pathetic attempt to make me feel better actually worked. She was right. I had the Vulcan for only three hours every week. That wasn't much. I could probably get used his seething hatred… I hoped.

"Stop gossiping, ladies."

We both spun around, Su Ling still holding the lungs tightly in her hands to see Leonard staring down at both of us, with an expression of mock-disapproval.

"Dr. McCoy!" gasped Su Ling in surprise, "You scared the bejeezus out of me!"

Leonard's face broke out in a huge grin as he took in Su Ling's shocked expression, then looked over at me and looked worried.

"You alright there, Treebeard?" he asked me, taking in my glum expression.

"She hates Vulcans." Explained Su Ling, giving me a nudge in the ribs with her elbow and turning back to the table, placing the lungs down and picking up her scalpel.

I flushed in embarrassment and avoided Leonard's eye. The last thing that I needed was to be reported to administration for slagging off a teacher.

"Vulcans?" he asked, a smile in his voice, "I don't suppose that this would have anything to do with the self-conceited green-blooded hobgoblin currently teaching elective math, would it?"

I looked up in surprise. So I wasn't the only one to hate him, which was a good sign. If his co-workers also disliked him, then maybe it was him, not me, who was at fault. Intrigued by this idea, I continued the conversation.

"Not a fan, huh?" I asked him, my mouth turning up at the side.

"You could say that Commander Spock and I disagree on some issues." explained Leonard cryptically, "The guy's hard to get along with."

I smiled, finally feeling better. So it wasn't just me. Good.

"Don't let him get ya down, Alex," Leonard drawled in his thick American accent, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You're worth more than what some Vulcan thinks of you."

His words were surprisingly comforting, and I smiled at him in thanks.

"Yeah, I guess…" I muttered, "Anyway, I should probably get on with things…" I gestured towards a torso lying on the table, and he grinned.

"Wouldn't want to tear you apart from your cadavers, Birchwood." He joked, winking at me before sauntering off, hands in his pockets.

I rolled my eyes at him, but the left side of my lip quirked up in a small smile. Alright, so the guy had made me feel a bit better. Su Ling turned to me and smiled, proffering the lungs in her hands.

"Shall we?" She gestured to a scalpel on the metal table in front of her.

"It would be my pleasure," I replied, picking it up, placing the lungs down on the table and beginning to cut thin slices to place on a microscope.

"Just pretend its bleeding green…" Su Ling muttered to me, and I snorted in laughter.

Actually, pretending that the immobile lung on my operating table was actually a hunk of Vulcan flesh made me feel considerably better.

Maybe I could find a way to get through this year after all…


	5. Drowning Sorrows in the Drunken Gorn

I was welcomed home at six O'clock to a view of T'yonga in a scarlet dress that was so tight it seemed like a second skin. I was only just inside the doorway when she grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me towards the bedroom.

"We're going out toniiiiight!" she sang as she sat me down on my bed and danced towards her closet.

"We?" I asked, "I have an early start tomorrow, 'yonga. I'm not planning on getting too wild…"

She stuck out her bottom lip and batted her newly stuck on false eyelashes at me in discontent.

"But I met a guyyyyyyyy…" she complained, "And I want you to meet him…"

I rolled my eyes.

"You meet a new guy every week, honey."

She laughed, a tinkling sound, and threw a bra at my head.

"Not every week…" She defended herself, although she was grinning at me. She knew that I had a point.

As an Orion, T'yonga never found herself short of male suitors. She was absolutely gorgeous, bright green skin stretched perfectly over a curvily slim frame, waist-length red hair that hung in corkscrew curls around her oval shaped face. She was any guy's dream.

I, on the other hand, was decidedly average. At 5"6, I wasn't tall, I wasn't short. I was a few pounds over curvy, and my pale skin went bright red at the first sign of a blush. I wore contacts, but occasionally was forced to wear my thick-rimmed prescription glasses, which did nothing for my attractiveness. Sure, I had the occasional chat-up line from a guy in a pub, and T'yonga insisted to me that I was a 'Celtic beauty', but I found it difficult to believe.

"Anyway this guy's different." She continued.

"Different how?" I asked sceptically, I was used to the kind of guys that T'yonga brought home.

"Well, he's not only in it for the green factor, I'm sure of that."

My eyebrows raised in surprise. The 'Green Factor', a name that T'yonga and I had come up with in our second year, was by far the most common reason why guys went after her. In typical post-pubescent male fashion, they wanted to brag to their friends that they had 'slept with a green chick'. That had been the reason for most of T'yonga's breakups. Once the little shits had checked her off their list, they were gone. It was for this reason that I had a deep distrust of any man that T'yonga hooked up with.

"How do you know?" I asked, curious.

"He was going on about how we could still be friends if I didn't like him in that way, and all of that. He looked really nervous as well, none of the swagger that they usually put on." She explained, rooting through her wardrobe and throwing miscellaneous items of clothing at me, "Try some of these on."

"Why can't I wear my own clothes?" I asked, rooting through the pile of fabric that was now on my bed.

"Because your clothes make you look like a homeless cat lady and my clothes make you look like a perfect ten." She explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I held up a red dress that was so short it could easily be mistaken for a top, and raised an eyebrow.

"Oooh yeah, that one would look good on you!" She mused, coming over to me and pulling me up, making me hold the dress in front of myself and analysing its suitability.

"Ok. Pros: It shows off your great rack, it's figure-hugging, I have a pair of Jimmy Choos that would go perfectly with it…" she rattled off.

"Cons, it makes me look like a strawberry blamange…" I finished for her.

She let out a snort of laughter at my disgruntled face.

"Okay, so you don't like the dress…" she mused, going back to her wardrobe and continuing to search.

"I haven't even promised to go yet, 'yonga." I reminded her, as she threw something that I could only describe as lingerie onto my lap.

"But you will when I tell you about this guuuuyyyyy!" she sang, and I laughed and reclined back on the bed. I needed something to take my mind of the depressing events of that morning, and T'yonga's rose-tinted musings sounded like the perfect thing.

"Okay. Spill." I said, a smile already starting to spread across my face.

She grinned, happy to be able to recollect her story to somebody, she had obviously been waiting for me to come home.

"First thing's first, he is absolutely GORGEOUS!" she started, emphasising her point with vivid hand gestures.

"'Yonga you think everyone with a y chromosome is gorgeous…" I muttered, but she ignored my scepticism and continued.

"I met him at lunch today, and he asked me if I wanted to join him and a few friends who were meeting at the 'Drunken Gorn' tonight. I said I'd bring you along."

Ah. The 'Drunken Gorn' was the absolute epitome of student clubs. At any time in the day, it was sure to be crawling with sweaty drunken Starfleet cadets drowning their sorrows in shot glasses and hoping to pull a partner for the night.

She saw my grimace and immediately tried to reassure me, "Noooo it'll be fun! And he's not just into me because I'm green… he really likes my personality…"

Alright, so the guy didn't sound like a total wanker. She was giving me the puppy-dog eyes that meant that if I didn't go, she'd mix her green foundation in with mine in revenge, so I'd look like I was about to projectile vomit if I wore it. I wasn't going to risk that again.

"Okay. I'm interested. What's his name?"

T'yonga beamed at me, chucking another dress in my direction, one which seemed slightly more appropriate.

"Jim. Jim Kirk."

 

As I'd expected, the Drunken Gorn was packed to the brim with students getting hammered after their first day back. T'yonga had managed to persuade me to wear a knee-length black dress with a low-cut front. I had always been curvy, a polite way of saying that I could lose a few pounds, and the dress accentuated every curve, going in and out in all the right places. Coupled with the ridiculously high pair of black diamanté Louboutin stilettos that T'yonga had forced me into, I actually felt pretty hot. I'd have to nick this outfit from her again.

We squeezed our way up to the bar, and requested two pints of beer from the barman, before taking a perch on two empty stools.

"Okay, so where's wonder-boy at?"

As soon as the words had left my mouth I heard a yell from the opposite side of the pub.

"T'yonga! Over here!"

It appeared that my question would soon be answered.

Through the huddles of students pushed a tall, well-built blonde cadet wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of loose fitting jeans. Okay. I could see what 'Yonga saw in him. He was gorgeous. His dark-blonde hair was purposefully ruffled in a just-got-out-of-bed look that had probably taken hours to perfect, and his sparkling blue eyes could give mine a run for their money. He smiled, flashing a row of dazzlingly straight teeth.

I gave her a quick elbow in the ribs to show my appreciation, and she looked over at me with an 'I know, right?' expression on her face.

"Ladies," he introduced himself assuredly as he reached us "James Tiberius Kirk, captain-in-training, at your service." He leaned down and took T'yonga's hand in his own before kissing it gently.

If you have never seen a green woman blush, you have missed out on a marvellous opportunity, because at that moment, T'yonga turned as red as a beetroot.

"And I don't believe I've had the pleasure…" he continued, looking at me with a confident smirk.

"Alex." I said simply, flashing him a smile, "Fifth year medic."

His eyebrows raised and he winced in mock-sympathy.

"Poor you. That's a busy schedule you've got there."

"Tell me about it…" I muttered, smiling back instinctively. I liked this guy, there was something about his enthusiasm that was infectious.

T'yonga obviously liked him, too. Her eyes barely left him the whole time he was talking to me. Well, good for her. It had been too long since she'd had someone nice to call her boyfriend.

"So where are all your friends at?" I asked him, looking around, "Did you just make them up?" I couldn't see any students who seemed to be with him.

"Yeah," continued T'yonga, "Alex was looking to pull tonight…"

I shot daggers at her, but James just laughed.

"Yeah, sorry about that…" he responded to my query, "They all bailed on me at the last minute. Something about not wanting to be hungover for tomorrow morning."

"That was originally my plan," I admitted, and T'yonga smirked, "But this green bastard dragged me out of my bed."

She roared with laughter and patted me on the shoulder, "We both know that you needed to get out of the house."

I reluctantly agreed with that.

"So Alex," started James, "You're in your fifth year?"

I nodded and took a sip of my beer, "For my sins."

"So what's your elective like?"

T'yonga's eyes widened to saucers as she remembered. She'd been so excited to get out tonight, she had completely forgotten to enquire over my maths class that morning.

"I can't believe I didn't ask you!" She yelled at me, "How was the Vulcan?"

James winced in sympathy, "Spock, huh? I've never met the guy in person, but he seems like a bit of a twat."

Blunt and to the point. I liked it.

"A massive twat," I corrected him, "He basically tore my guts open today because I didn't have the right bloody calculator."

"Aww babe…" muttered T'yonga, rubbing my back affectionately.

James smirked at my tone, "Guess you two aren't going to be the best of friends, then…?"

"I would literally rather remove all of the nails from both my toes with a pair of rusty tweezers. He's a stuck-up wanker. I don't even want to think about him." I deadpanned.

"It sounds to me as if you need another drink," James laughed at my outburst, hailing the barman over with a flick of his hand.

"Two vodka and cokes for the lovely ladies here," he asked, winking at T'yonga and causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl. I hadn't seen her act like this since the first time she saw Professor McCormack in the lunch hall and she'd practically dribbled her Plumeen soup all over herself. I liked it, she was obviously happy with this guy.

The barman, a tall stocky man with a shock of bright green hair, placed our drinks in front of us, grunted non-committaly and walked off, and I picked up my drink and took a massive swig, scrunching my nose up as the taste filled my nostrils.

I felt a hand pat me roughly on the back.

"Good on you!" yelled T'yonga over the noise of the chatter around us, "You needed this."

Well… if I couldn't erase the events of this morning, at least I could try my best to forget them...

I downed the rest of my vodka and coke, and raised my hand for the barman.

"One more please."


	6. Calculators And The Menstrual Cycle

Ok. So drinking last night was a bad idea. I opened my groggy eyes and glanced at the alarm clock, squinting at the harsh sunlight blasting in through the curtains. Eight thirty.

I let out a deep groan and slid out of bed onto the floor, taking two paracetamol for the pounding headache in my skull, and crawling towards the bathroom on all fours. I managed to pull myself up to the toilet, before emptying whatever remained in my stomach from last night, the sour taste of vomit stinging my throat.

"Fucking hell…" I grimaced, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and dragging myself upright to look in the mirror.

I looked like the epitome of literal shit. My hair was stuck to the side of my face, and my mascara ran down my cheek like ebony tears. The red lipstick from last night was smeared across my chin and… was that a hickey on my neck? I pulled my hair to the side and took a closer look. That was definitely a hickey. I sure as hell don't remember getting that.

I took a glance at the watch on my wrist and figured that I didn't have time for a shower. It was 30 minutes until my first lesson, and it would take me at least twenty minutes to walk to Starfleet at a fast pace.

I took a mouthful of mouthwash and gargled, revelling in the minty taste washing the stale aroma of vomit and cheap whiskey out of my mouth. I did a quick once-over on my teeth, then tied my hair up in a tight bun and attempted to wipe the remnants of last night's make-up off my face.

Shuffling from the bathroom into T'yonga and my shared room, I quickly pulled the black dress up over my head and pulled off my tights, leaving me standing in a skimpy set of black lacy underwear. That was entirely T'yonga's fault. I rummaged around in my drawer before pulling out a regulation blue Starfleet dress. I wasn't usually the type of person to wear the dresses, preferring to go by a shirt and black trousers, but I wanted to get dressed as quickly as possible. I shook the dress to get rid of the creases and held it up to look at it. It barely came down to my mid-thigh. Starfleet had a thing for short dresses.

"Looking good," came a low voice from my left, and I gasped and spun around to see a completely naked James Kirk lying on T'yonga's bed, her green arm wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his torso. Alright, so apparently I wasn't the only one who had pulled last night.

"Jesus Christ put it away…" I muttered, slipping the dress on over my head and searching in my wardrobe for my trusty black Doc Martens.

He chuckled and pulled the covers up over him, thankfully shielding my view of his crown jewels.

"Much appreciated," I thanked him, sitting on the corner of my bed and pulling my boots on, before grabbing my PADD and tucking it into my handy leather satchel.

He chuckled and turned over, kissing T'yonga on the head and wrapping his arm around her waist. She smiled in her sleep and snuggled in to his embrace, and I couldn't help the corner of my mouth twitching up. I may not approve of the time and place of their copulation, but whatever the circumstances, James Kirk seemed like a nice enough guy.

I wanted to lay down a few ground rules first, though.

"You'd better be gone when I get back, Kirk." I said sternly, "I have a lot of work to do, and I'd rather not complete my assignements with a naked Captain-in-training in my room."

He laughed, and I rolled my eyes, threw my satchel over my shoulder and strode out of the room. I just hoped I could make it in time.

I ran through the Starfleet gates as soon as the 9:00 bell rang. I checked my PADD. I was in a lecture in hall F203 with Professor K'haah, a moody Gorn woman with the temper of a wasp. Luckily for me, she was in the habit of turning up to her lectures at least twenty minutes late, before shouting at us all for wasting her time. I jogged towards F building, my satchel slapping against my thighs with the movement. A quick glance at my watch told me that I had at least a quarter of an hour until I needed to be in the lecture theatre, so I made a quick stop at the Starfleet bookstore.

"Hi," I greeted the friendly shop-assistant, a young-looking girl with a red bob, "I don't suppose you have any graphical calculators?"

I wasn't keen to be caught up in having the wrong calculator in the next maths lesson.

She flashed a smile at me, showing a white set of teeth, held in place by thick braces.

"Sure we have," she responded, standing up and walking towards a large set of shelves. She picked up a hefty looking object and brought it back to the counter, setting it down in front of me.

"That'll be seventy three dollars."

"Seventy three?" I responded in shock. That was surely a bit steep.

She grimaced in apology.

"I don't make the prices, honey, I just sell them. Sorry."

I shook my head and pulled my ID out of my bag, scanning it on the holographic pad on the counter. All in-campus purchases were made using our personal identification cards, which charged the money directly to our bank accounts.

"Don't apologise, it's not your fault," I said good naturedly, smiling again, and taking the calculator from the counter-top, placing it carefully into my satchel.

"Thanks a lot,"

I nodded and turned to go, before crashing headfirst into a blue torso behind me.

"Sorry," I muttered, looking up at the face of my obstacle, and freezing.

It was Professor Spock, the expression on his face making it clear that he would rather be anywhere than stood directly before me. He raised his eyebrow in what could only be described as carefully contained disgust. His gaze quickly glanced down to the collar of my dress, a look of mild surprise on his face before bringing his eyes back up to reach mine. What? Did I have food on me? This dress was only new on today…

"Should you not be in lessons?" he asked in a low voice, interrupting my mental monologue.

"I wanted to get my calculator," I explained, rooting around in my satchel to find it.

He nodded noncommittally.

"Well, you should have had it at the beginning of the year, Cadet. All of the other students had managed to follow my simple instructions."

Of course.

I couldn't bump into him without getting an earful about what a shitty student I was. It was hard to take the moral highground when I was stood in a dress that came up to my arse and looking like the literal epitome of the walk of shame, but I decided to try to explain my situation.

"Well you see, sir," I said, "I originally applied for the Biochem elective. I was only told that I had been placed in Mathematics on the first day of this year. The first thing that I heard about this calculator was in the lesson yesterday."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, but his expression was infuriatingly neutral.

"Very well, Cadet. Get on with your work, I'm sure you have a lot to be doing." And with that, he turned his back and walked off.

That was it. No apology for his unnecessarily harsh treatment, no understanding. Just a 'get back to your work'. I watched him walk away, struggling not to throw my new seventy dollar calculator at the back of his head.

Oh shit.

I raised my hand to my neck, getting out my phone to look in my reflection. Sure enough, the mysterious love-bite from last night was on full show. Brilliant. So now he thought that I was a slag as well as socially inept. I groaned loudly. That must have been what he was looking at.

"Don't pay him any heed, honey," said the red-headed girl behind the desk, a small smile on her face, "I've been working here for the best part of four years, and I don't think I've ever seen him crack a smile. It's not you, it's him."

Surprisingly, her words made me feel a bit better. It wasn't my fault that the guy was a moody sod, and I wasn't going to let it affect my happiness.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking a glance at my watch.

"Shit!" I swore, "I'm late."

She chuckled, "Better run then,"

I gave her a final wave, and legged it out of the small shop, running at full blast towards F building. By the time I got to the top of the stairs, my thighs were burning, but I managed to burst into the lecture theatre before Professor K'haah.

I took a seat in the front, and pulled out my PADD, a pen and a pad of paper, just in time to see Professor K'haah stalk into the room, a look of fury on her face.

Then again, that might just be her face.

"ALRIGHT STUDENTS!" she yelled to be heard by all 200 students in the room, "THE MENSTRUAL CYCLE!"

There was a slight groan from the back of the classroom, probably the males, but I smiled to myself. This was, weirdly enough, one of my favourite topics to learn about. The constant repetitions of each 28 day cycle was oddly reassuring to me.

"If I have to see one more vagina I'm going to jump out of the fourth floor window," came a heavily accented voice next to me.

I turned around to see a tall dark-skinned man sat next to me, looking about as miserable as it was possible to look. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, his teeth looking impossibly white against his skin.

"I'm Pierre," he said in a French accent, "Fifth year. I 'ave just transferred from Paris"

"Alex," I replied, "Hungover."

His face lit up at the sound of my accent.

"Another European!" he exclaimed, putting his arm around me in an unexpected hug, "Bonjour my darling, bonjour!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, and he heartily joined in.

"Now is the time where I say that I've never been to France," I admitted, and he shook off my revelation with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

"And I 'ave never been to England, amis, but I know a friend when I see one! Us Europeans must stick together!"

Alright. So I'd made a new friend in the space of three minutes. That was a new record.

I got out a pad of paper and began to take notes on the lecture.

"Tell me, chérie," Pierre muttered in my ear as Professor K'haah droned on about oestrogen and progesterone, "I don't suppose you know the name of that hunk of man-flesh making paper aeroplanes on the third row from the back?"

I chuckled to myself.

"Using me as a wingwoman?" I asked in mock-offence, "And there's me thinking that you were talking to me because you wanted to be my friend!"

He laughed again, nudging my shoulder with his much broader one, "Friends help friends out, Alan."

"Alex," I corrected, hiding a giggle and turning around in my seat to see who Pierre was talking about. I saw him instantly, his face crumpled in concentration, not on the complex array of hormones on the board, but on his creation of a masterful airplane out of a piece of A4 notepaper.

"I think he's called Jason," I whispered back, "He was in my dissection class last year. Masterful with a scalpel."

Pierre nodded, storing the name in his memory for later use.

"I will have to talk to him," he said, "There is something about these American boys. Drive me crazy."

I let out a full blown laugh at that, and K'haah stopped her explanation of follicle stimulating hormone to send me a dirty look, before carrying on unfazed.

"Obviously you've never seen one try to stuff twelve chicken nuggets in his mouth," I replied, hiding a chuckle, "They aren't exactly well schooled in the art of romance."

Pierre merely shook his head.

"Ah, my English rose," he drawled in his thick accent, "Has no boy come to steal your heart yet?"

I shook my head, and he sighed melodramatically. Of course the Parisian had a rose-tinted ideal of love.

"Ah but you are a beau," he continued, "Surely there must be some man?"

I raised my eyebrows and shook my head again, "No man, I'm afraid," I admitted, "I'm happily single."

He gave me an unconvinced look, but let the matter drop and jotted down the notes on the screen at the front of the classroom.

"Would you like to join my friends and I for lunch today?" he asked me, after about five minutes of silence.

"I'd love to," I whispered back, smiling to myself, before continuing my diagrams.

Fantastic. I'd made another friend. Three in the space of two days, Pierre, James Kirk and Jackie, the blonde girl from my maths class, this was some sort of record. I smiled to myself as I copied the complicated equations from the board. This was my final year at Starfleet, and God help me if I was going to let a pissy Vulcan ruin my mood.

I put Professor Spock from my mind, and got on with my work.


	7. Coffee, Hickeys And Unfortunate Meetings

Lunch with Pierre and his friends was, surprisingly, absolutely fantastic. They were all very, very French, and it was refreshing to hear so many European accents in one place. The constant American voices all around me were making me miss home.

Pierre's friends consisted of two blonde twins, one male one female, Alec and Jasmine, who were both studying Interplanetary Law and Relations, a tall, skinny brunette girl with eyes the colour of ash called Belle, who was in her third year of Xenolinguistics and the cocky and assured Liam, an attractive jock, who was almost finished his course in Physiotherapy.

Pierre introduced me as 'Alex, the English doctor,', and everyone had welcomed me instantly. We all got to know each other well within the first half hour of lunch, and within no time at all, we were all laughing and sharing jokes.

"There is a belle of a boy in my endochrinology class," Pierre exclaimed to the group as he sipped on a caramel mocha, "Is there not, Alex?"

I rolled my eyes sarcastically, taking another bite of my sandwich, he was talking about Jason, the paper-aeroplane making 'dreamboat' that he had spotted during our menstrual cycle lecture.

"He's certainly made an impression on you," I joked, nudging Pierre in the side and earning a laugh

from Jasmine and Alec.

"Pierre, my darling, you are insatiable," Jasmine cooed in her strong French accent, batting her eyelashes comically.

She was almost painfully beautiful, Jasmine. Her long blonde hair tumbled perfectly around her heart-shaped face in carefully arranged curls, and her emerald eyes, lined flawlessly with kohl, shone from her face when she spoke. What was it about the French and producing ridiculously attractive people?

Pierre merely laughed and finished his coffee in one long draught, before checking the time on his watch.

"I'm off, my lovelies," he said, packing up his bag and standing up, his chair scraping on the clean linoleum floors, "Dissection awaits."

"Enjoy…" I muttered, and he pulled a face. I knew what he meant. Dissection could be interesting and enjoyable, but never on a full stomach. I was lucky enough to not have any dissection classes straight after lunch this year, thank my lucky stars.

He mimed sticking two fingers down his throat, and grimaced at me.

"I 'ope to see you again, Alex," he smiled at me.

"You too, Pierre," I responded honestly.

"You know what, I should probably be heading off too…" muttered Belle, smiling at me and hoisting her bag over her shoulder, "I don't suppose my essay on the cultural differences between Vulcan and Earth is going to write itself…"

I laughed, "Good luck, see you in a bit!"

One by one the group got up and left to go to their lessons, until I was eventually left on my own on the large table. I had a free period, and was planning on using it to my advantage. Getting my satchel out from underneath the table, I removed my PADD and opened up the e-mail that Professor Spock had sent our maths class.

"Complete the following equations, giving your answers in exact form where possible"

I glanced over the equations and smiled to myself. They seemed easy enough, just a bit of factorising and integrating. I was glad that I had bought my graphical calculator that morning, something told me that it was going to be helpful.

I worked quickly, undistracted by the constant chatter of students in the busy cafeteria. Maybe maths wasn't going to be such a terrible subject after all.

I had finished most of the questions within an hour, to my surprise. Something told me that the rest of this year certainly wouldn't be as easy, the Professor probably gave us some simple questions to ease us into the year.

I sighed to myself and figured that I should probably pack my stuff up and head back home, I certainly hadn't got much sleep last night, so I'd have to catch up tonight. At least I wouldn't be greeted at my door by a naked Jim Kirk, I hoped. I'd been pretty clear to him this morning, asking him to be gone by the time that I got back. It wasn't that I had a problem with his relationship with T'yonga, quite the opposite, I was happy that she finally had what seemed to be a decent guy in her life, but sometimes, I just needed a bit of girl-time.

I rooted around in my bag for any loose change, and luckily stumbled upon a few quarters and dimes. Brilliant. Just enough for a coffee. I walked up to the counter, bringing my heavy bag in tow.

"One black coffee, please."

"Not a problem, that will be $2.00 please."

I smiled and handed the checkout woman my handful of warm change, "Sorry," I muttered, as she counted each coin out individually.

She laughed, "Don't worry about it, dear. I'm always in need of change."

An unexpected voice came from behind me, causing me to jump.

"Do you have my salad, Martha? I'm very sorry for my unpunctuality, I got caught up marking papers."

I recognised the low monotonous voice instantly and froze. Shit. Why did I keep bumping into this guy? Had I been a murderer in a past life or something?

"Of course, Commander Spock, I'll just finish serving this young lady and get it for you."

She turned away from us and busied herself at the coffee machine, leaving myself and the Professor stood in painful silence. After a few seconds of awkward quiet, I realised that refusing to look around and acknowledge his presence would just be seen as rude, so I bit the bullet and put on my best smile.

"Professor Spock." I said politely, nodding in respect, as the woman, Martha, turned back and handed me a hot cup of black coffee.

"Thank you,"

I gave her another smile, then turned to the Vulcan, "Goodbye Professor."

Time to get the ever-loving hell out of there. The last thing that I needed to do was make the Vulcan hate me more than he inevitably already did.

"Cadet," he called out after me, and I froze, and turned back around to face him, trying to mask my annoyance. I just wanted to get home, I didn't need another lecture on my shortcomings.

"I trust that you have completed the work assigned to you for tomorrow's lecture?" he said in a neutral tone.

"Yes, Sir," I responded, with equal neutrality, "I just completed it before."

"And how did you find it?" he continued, swiping his ID badge on the counter to pay for his salad, a bland, tasteless looking concoction compromising solely of lettuce, tomatoes and avocado.

"Not too difficult," I replied, "I was alright with most of the questions."

He nodded, "Very well. I will see you tomorrow in class. I hope that you'll actually manage to make it on time this time. If there is one thing that I dislike above all else, it is unpunctuality, and you were two minutes late for my lesson yesterday. I trust that it will not happen again?"

I was surprised by the outburst to say the least, for a Vulcan, it was almost… emotive.

"Of course, Sir. My apologies, Sir." I might as well be polite.

"Good." He said simply, "I do not need the tardiness of one foolish cadet to impact upon my teaching, or the learning of others."

"I understand completely Sir. I'll be on time tomorrow." I was pretty sure that I had flushed a burning red colour by this point, surely such public humiliation was unnecessary for being just two minutes late for a lecture…

"Very well." He replied, turning away from me and thanking Martha, the cashier, "And you may want to check your assignment. I somehow doubt that you have answered everything correctly."

He just wasn't going to let up on me, was he?

"You are dismissed." He said cooly.

I nodded again, and turned on my heels, before speed-walking to the exit as fast as I could, the coffee cup burning the inside of my palm. I took a long swig, the black liquid scalding my throat as I swallowed. Well, he hated me that much was certain. Why was he so certain that I was unable to do the work that he had set for me? Surely, I was just as capable as any other student from my class? I grumbled to myself as I stepped out of the door into the pouring rain.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Sighing to myself and shrugging my bag to my other shoulder, I set off home.

By the time I got back to the flat, James Kirk was, thankfully, gone. I was greeted instead with a hug so violent it almost knocked me off my feet.

"He's the oooooooooonnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeee!" Sang T'yonta, her shrill voice ringing in my ears as I struggled to hold onto all of my belongings.

She finally let go and bounced over to the kitchen table, pouring me a mug of tea.

"Have a seat, my darling," she warbled at me, plonking me down onto the chair opposite her, and immediately reeling off into a long rant about the perfection of her new, official, boyfriend. I zoned out and drank my tea, nodding and occasionally adding a 'hmm' or a 'yeah' in the right place, to convince her that she had my undivided attention.

Eventually the conversation dragged to a stop, and she turned her attention back to me.

"You never explain why you hate that Vulcan so much, Alex."

Well, that was blunt and to the point.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"He seems to have completely dismissed me as a possible form of intelligent life." I stated simply, "He had a massive stress at me for being, like, one minute late to his first lecture, and not having that goddamn calculator. And then when I apologise to him today, he just acts as if his treatment of me was completely justified. As if he's so much higher and mightier than me. He basically told me today in the cafeteria that he didn't think I was up for the course. 'I doubt that you've got it right' my arse, he just hates me because I'm not as organised as a fucking COMPUTER!"

I hadn't realised it, but my voice had slowly built up to a crescendo, and soon I was yelling at the top of my lungs. A look of complete shock was plastered onto T'yonga's face, she had never seen me so angry before.

"Babe…" she muttered, and I sighed to myself.

"I'm sorry, 'yonga," I apologised for my outburst, "He's just managed to really piss me off."

"Don't pay him any heed, hun," she reassured, patting me gingerly on the shoulder, as if she was worried that I was about to take a bite out of her hand, "I'm off out. Care to join me?"

I shook my head smiling. After last night, I wasn't sure that I could handle another night out for the next month.

"Also, T'y," I enquired, turning around to her as she rooted around for her shoes, "Where in the hell did I get this love-bite from?"

She roared in laughter, tossing her head back, her red curls bouncing as she guffawed, "Some first year engineering student, he was attached to your neck like a fucking limpet."

"Why didn't you save me?!" I asked indignantly, "I had to walk around with a hickie on my neck all day!"

Her eyes widened.

"Did the Vulcan see?" I could see that she was trying not to laugh.

"YES!" I shouted, "YES HE BLOODY WELL DID!"

She laughed again, coming over to me and ruffling my hair, "You poor darling, you."

"Thank you for the resounding sympathy," I deadpanned sarcastically, as she skipped away, slipping on a pair of stilettos and grabbing her handbag.

"Well, you looked like you were enjoying yourself…" she defended herself weakly, "You'll probably be asleep by the time I get back, but I'll tell Jim hi from you…"

"Tell him that next time he stays over, he better wear pants. I don't want to be greeted with that view again in the morning."

She giggled shamelessly and blew a kiss in my direction, before slipping out of the door, leaving me sat on my own.

I sat in silence for a while, before reaching into my bag and pulling out my homework assignment, my scrawled handwriting spidering over the A4 pages of lined, white paper.

I guess it wouldn't hurt just to check it over, just once…


	8. Lunchtime With A Vulcan

Spock walked into the communal Staff Room holding his salad in one hand and a pile of unmarked papers in the other. He nudged the door open with his hip and made a direct line to the first empty table that he saw, perching on a wooden chair, and placing the stack of papers in front of him. Usually he ate in his own office, he much preferred to be alone than in the company of others, but every Tuesday, he made an effort to eat in the Communal Staff area. He did this to improve his relationships with his co-workers, an essential factor in a successful working environment.

Today though, he wanted nothing more than to not be there. He had a massive pile of marking to be doing, despite this only being the second day of the New Year. When taking on this job, Spock had had no worries about keeping up with the workload, but he was finding it increasingly more difficult to get everything done in time. It didn't help that his subject, advanced mathematics, had been added that year to be an elective for the fifth year medical students. The last thing that he needed was even more student's assignments to mark.

He let out a small sigh, took a bite of his salad and took out his red pen, picking up the first paper in the pile.

Might as well get it over with, he thought to himself as he began marking.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

What was it with first years and an inability to factorise equations? He had only just started marking the pile of assignments, and already felt exasperated.

"Welcome back, pointy,"

Spock knew the Southern drawl, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a millisecond, before dragging his eyes away from his marking to look at Dr. Leonard McCoy. The man's eyes were twinkling in mischief, a look that Spock had come to fear over the years. He was not ashamed to say that he and Dr McCoy had never been close. The good doctor was far too emotive for Spock's liking, he lacked a control over his emotions that most Vulcans had learned by their first birthday. The man was prone to sudden outbursts of anger or annoyance, totally inappropriate and unacceptable in the workplace.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," Spock replied with neutrality, refusing to be made emotive by this man, "I trust you had a good summer?"

Leonard replied with a noncommittal grunt, taking a long swig from a bottle that Spock sincerely hoped contained water, but he wouldn't put it past the doctor to be drinking on the job.

"Got into a fight with my wife," he said, rubbing his lightly stubbled jaw with one hand, "I always seem to be doing that nowadays."

Spock didn't know how to answer such a personal remark, so remained silent, and continued to mark his papers, the red pen gliding smoothly along the pristine white paper. Marking, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Leonard snorted, and Spock glanced up at the unexpected noise. Dr. McCoy raised his hand in mock-surrender.

"Sorry pointy," he chuckled to himself, and Spock resisted the very un-Vulcan urge to punch him directly in the nose at the derogatory nickname, "But you look like pummelled shit, and it's only the second day back."

He gestured to the pile of papers sat in front of the Vulcan.

"Marking getting to you, huh?" he asked.

"It's nothing that I can't handle." replied Spock in a neutral tone, already disinterested with the conversation. Really, he was glad that he only had to interact with the staff once a week. Anything more, and he didn't think he could face it.

The doctor merely 'hmm'ed conspiratorially, and rooted around in his large over-the-shoulder bag, before pulling out a thick sandwich. Spock masterfully concealed an irritated sigh, it appeared that the doctor was planning on staying for a while.

"My secret is to ask a student to do it for me." He stage-whispered, before taking a horse-bite of his sandwich.

Spock looked up at this, his eyebrows knotted in shock. Surely he couldn't be serious?

"You... what?" the Vulcan asked incredulously.

Leonard let out a chuckle, "When it all gets too much for me, I tend to ask one of my more capable students for help. Give them some extra credit or something for it. It sure beats being up all night marking."

Spock raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, I suppose it would." he mused, wondering if any of his current students struck him as 'capable' enough to assist him in his marking.

His mind wandered instantly to a girl in his Medicine Elective class, a British girl with thick dark hair, bright blue eyes and one of the fastest minds he knew. He always set his classes a particularly difficult task at the beginning of each year, to prevent them from becoming over-confident. It usually worked terrifically, as the students knew instantly that they were out of their depth, and the shock of the knowledge forced them to pay close attention to him for the rest of the year. The British girl, on the other hand, had managed to solve his equation with what appeared to be little difficulty, even after having turned up to his class late and unprepared.

It infuriated him for a reason that he didn't even understand.

Of course, there was no way that he could rely on her to help, not with her dreadful record for punctuality.

"Do you know the fifth year British medic?" he enquired to Dr. McCoy.

He was purely interested on a professional manner, obviously.

At the question, Leonard barked out a bout of laughter, causing Spock to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"You talking about Treebeard?" he asked, and a look of confusion momentarily crossed Spock's face.

"Who?"

"Birchwood." Explained the doctor, "Sorry, Treebeard's my nickname for her. Did you know she was a member of Greenpeace?"

Spock was more interested about the fact that Leonard knew her so well that he had established a nickname for her. He wasn't quite sure how this made him feel.

"Yes. Alex, was it?" Spock asked, trying to sound neutral. His personal dislike of the student didn't need to be broadcasted.

"She's got a lot of spunk, that lass..." Dr. McCoy continued, "Known her for five years. You should have seen her on her first day, terrified as anything. Asked a fellow student for a rubber in her first dissection lesson," he laughed heartily, "She meant an eraser, of course, they call them 'rubbers' in England. Seemed to make a few friends after that. Has an Orion buddy that she rooms with."

"She's as bright as a flame, but as fiery as one, too. You don't want to get her pissed off with you."

"I... I beg your pardon?!"

"She has a temper on her." Leonard said simply, "I've seen that girl get annoyed, and it's like nothing you've ever seen. Like a bomb has gone off."

"She doesn't seem to like you very much." Dr. McCoy muttered, almost to himself, but Spock's advanced Vulcan hearing quickly picked up on it.

"Oh I'm well aware of that, Doctor," replied Spock in all honesty, "Cadet Birchwood arrived late to my first lesson, with insufficient equipment. I told her in no uncertain terms that I would not accept such mistakes. She is a student in a well-respected faculty, and she should behave as such."

"Bit harsh, Pointy. I'd wager she's one of your best students. You don't want her to hate coming to your lessons before you've even had a chance to teach her anything."

Spock ignored the jibe.

"I am not known for my niceties, Dr. McCoy, I am known for my teachings."

Dr. McCoy raised his eyebrows in surprise, and stood up, his chair scraping roughly on the wooden floor.

"No wonder none of your students like you..." he muttered under his breath, unaware that Spock could clearly hear everything that he said. The good doctor made his way across the staffroom to begin a conversation with Professor Jones, a sprightly young woman who taught advanced mechanics, leaving Spock on his own to mark his papers.

Spock was glad. He preferred the company of himself to the company of others, and anyway, it gave him more time to mark.

He couldn't help but wonder if he had been too harsh on the young British girl, though. Dr. McCoy was right, in one respect, it would do no good for him to lose of one of his best students before the year even began.

He put the thought out of his head immediately. His job was to teach, his personal relationship with the students was of no concern to him. She could damn well hate him as much as she liked.

He finished marking one paper, and moved swiftly on to the next one, trying his best to put that infernal medic out of his mind, without much luck. He remembered how he had bumped into her that morning in the Stationary Shop, and how she had explained that she had only recently been assigned the Math elective, making her lack of the correct calculator in the first lesson seem entirely rational.

Spock felt his face heat up as he also drew to memory the distinctive purple mark on the Cadet's neck. A 'love bite', as the students called it. To Vulcans, it was something far more potent, far more intense. It was a brand, a marking, a possessive tattoo from one lover to another. It was a sign that said 'I'm taken.'

Something about seeing it on Cadet Birchwood had made him very uncomfortable, even irritable.

When he had seen her again in the cafeteria, he had been sharper with her than he usually would have been with a student, and he saw clearly that he had effected her, despite her obvious attempts to hide it. He had blamed his high levels of stress of the copious amounts of marking that he had to do, but knew that he was lying to himself.

There was something about that girl that made him emotive, and it terrified him.


	9. An Unexpected Apology

A lightbulb near the front of the classroom was flickering on and off rhythmically, the metallic 'ding' of the out-of-date lighting echoing in the room. A shaft of too-bright sunlight shone through the open windows, right into my eyes, making me squint in discomfort. I took a glance at my wristwatch, 3:30 pm, another half hour to go.

A single bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck, and I tugged at my too-tight collar, trying to get some much needed cool air. It was the hottest day of the summer so far, and the small room was swimming with the yawns and sweaty sighs of all twenty-three fifth-year medical students. I glanced down at the paper on my desk, my usually messy writing looking even more illegible now, as the heat of the day had drawn all the energy out of me, making the complex equation on my notepad look more like a spider had crawled in ink and died across my page. We were an hour into our maths lesson, and the Professor had given the class a set of equations to complete, but the heat and humidity had left everybody feeling exhausted.

I sighed and pulled a strand of hair loose from the thick dark plait that fell over my left shoulder, looking over to my left to see Jackie doodling love hearts onto the top left corner of her graph paper. She saw me watching, and gave me a beaming grin, before going back to her masterpiece.

"Alright,"

Everyone's heads snapped up immediately, looking to the front of the maths classroom, where Professor Spock was stood, holding a pile of papers in front of him, with a look on his face that could melt rock. If the guy ever smiled, I think his face would crack under the pressure.

"Your assignments were, to say the least, disappointing."

He gave the classroom a look over, and I noticed that he didn't meet my eye, as he had last time. I was glad. The last thing that I needed was to be singled out by him again. My heart sunk at his words, I had tried really hard to get a good mark in my first assignment, but obviously, hadn't managed to.

He slammed the papers roughly down on his desk, the loud noise breaking the rest of the students out of their dazed state, and causing me to jump. The room remained silent as the Professor looked down at us with barely concealed disgust.

"This was your first assignment. Your first. And the class average is 68%."

A hushed intake of breath came from around the room. Sixty eight percent was barely a pass, a 'D' Grade. If I was to get anywhere near that in my final exams, there was no way in hell that I would qualify as a doctor. I could tell by the terrified silence reverberating around the room that everybody was thinking the same thing.

"Only three students got an 'A' Grade. Three."

I took a quick glance again at my watch. Twenty minutes. Hopefully, the lecture that was to come wouldn't be a long one. I remembered what the Professor had said to me the last time that I met him, "I somehow doubt that you have answered everything correctly." I had been desperate to prove him wrong, but evidently, judging by the shocking results, I had failed.

"The following students each received a 'U' grade, and will be joining me tomorrow for a retest."

Surely he wasn't going to read out the names publicly and humiliate the students? I snuck a quick glance to my side, and noticed that Jackie had the same terrified expression on her face as I knew that I had. Apparently he was.

"Cadet Smith. Cadet Roberts. Cadet Sh'kaih. Cadet Ying. Cadet Harrison. Cadet Johnson."

A groan from my left at the final name. Poor Jackie, she'd be annoyed with herself at the mark she received. Also, a retest was never a fun thing to do, but one with a Vulcan, I assumed would be even worse.

"Get on with your work as I hand the rest of these out, please."

The class immediately looked back down at their desks, unwilling to make even the slightest bit of eye contact with the riled Professor. He picked the papers back up off the desk and began to walk slowly around the classroom, placing a marked paper on the desk of each student. I continued with my work, my pen gliding smoothly along the paper. I found the equations quite easy. That was one of he things that I loved about maths, once you had the basic skills, you could solve almost anything. 'Almost' being the prerogative word.

I felt a presence beside me, and looked up from my page to see the Professor looming over me, causing my heart to skip a beat, and me to take a sharp intake of breath in surprise. He could sneak up pretty quietly when he wanted to.

He looked down at me quizzically, confused as to my reaction.

"Sorry sir, you surprised me there…"

He raised a single eyebrow in an expression that very clearly said, 'I'm not going to waste my time talking to you'. He simply placed my assignment on the desk in front of me, and carried on walking around the classroom. I sighed to myself, why was I always making a fool out of myself around that Vulcan? He already hated me enough already, the last thing I needed to do was to make him think that I was even more unintelligent than he obviously already did. I glanced down at my assignment, dreading the mark that I would see circled in red pen at the top of it.

71/75 A

I… got an A?

I glanced upwards, and my blue eyes sought out the Professor, my face obviously showing my shock. He looked back at me, his dark eyes boring into my light ones, and I swore that I could see the corner of his lip quirk up in what couldn't accurately be described as a smile, but was definitely not his usual stony mask. A strange feeling crept up into my chest, a mixture of pride and something else that I could not quite put my finger on. He had not believed that I would be able to complete the assignment successfully, and it appeared that I had shown him wrong.

"What did you get?" A stage-whisper came from my right, and I turned to see Jackie, her blonde curly hair scraped off her face in a tight ponytail, holding up her test, a distinct '32/75 U' circled in the top left hand corner.

"I got an 'A'!" I mouthed, my face displaying the shock that I felt.

She grinned and gave me a thumbs up, mouthing "Smart cookie."

I smiled back at her, and turned my attention back to the equations in fron of me, feeling a lot happier than I did ten minutes ago.

When the lesson finally ended, everyone was happy to leave. The last lesson on a Friday always dragged on, but this one had been longer than most, though whether due to the sweltering heat or the dismal results from the assignment, I didn't know. The Professor's curt, "You are dismissed," was followed by the immediate noise of the scraping of twenty three chairs across the polished linoleum floor as twenty three students stood up, packed their equipment into their bags and fled out of the door.

"Birchwood."

I looked upwards from my leather satchel to see Professor Spock sitting at his desk, his hand folded neatly in front of himself, his eyes trained directly on me.

"Sir?" I asked inquisitively, unsure of what I had done this time to irritate him.

"Could you stay behind for five minutes? I need to discuss something with you."

Ah crap.

I glanced around in panic and saw that the majority of the students had left the room. Jackie was still there, packing her files into her pink rucksack, she gave me a glance and mouthed, 'I'll wait for you outside', before, slinging the rucksack over her shoulder and walking out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving me alone with the Professor.

I tucked a loose dark curl behind my ear, and hoisted my leather satchel over my shoulder, walking forwards to the front of the classroom, where Professor Spock was still sat behind his desk, his eyes trained directly onto me. That was the problem with Vulcans, they either gave you no attention, or their full, undivided attention. At the moment, I didn't know which was worse.

"Please, take a seat, Cadet." He said, gesturing to a plastic blue chair at the front of the classroom, directly opposite him. I lugged my heavy bag forwards and plonked down on the chair, placing my hands nervously in my lap.

"Am I in trouble, Sir?" I asked. Better to get it over with quickly, though, in all honesty, I had no idea what I had done this time.

"No Cadet." Was his simple answer. He sighed audibly and adjusted his position in his seat, if his face wasn't so stoic, I would swear that he looked uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid, Birchwood, that the apology is mine to make."

"I'm sorry?" Was I hallucinating?

"I'm afraid that I have been treating you unfairly."

I could feel my heart beating in my eardrums, still not quite sure if I was hearing correctly. His face was blank, with no expression, so I had to assume that he wasn't joking. Not that I thought that he would joke often.

"I formed a negative opinion of you after our first meeting, and I was under the impression that you would be unable to keep up with the curriculum. Your result from your latest assignment, as well as your ability to solve my equation in your first lesson have proven me wrong. So I'm sorry."

My mouth was dry, and my hands were sweating, I was sure that I had gone into shock. Well, this was certainly a surprise. I bit my tongue in order to stop myself from saying a cheeky comment back at him, and simply leaned back slightly in my chair.

"Well, thank you, sir." I replied smoothly, my face as blank as his, not betraying the smug level of pride that I felt on the inside.

Ha fucking ha. About time you piece of shit.

"I trust that you will be punctual for all of my lessons from now on?" He asked me, the outer third of his the left side of his upper lip twitching in a way that betrayed a slight hint of amusement. Was he joking with me? I didn't think that Vulcans did jokes…

"No, sir." I replied politely, and he nodded in appreciation.

"Well than you're dismissed, Cadet. Have a good weekend."

That was it? 'Have a good weekend'? I was surprised, to say the least, and wondered what had happened to make the Professor change his mind.

"I really appreciate this, Sir. Thank you very much." I stood up, scraping my chair on the floor, and hoisting my heavy bag over my shoulder, "I look forwards to your lesson on Monday. Have a good weekend."

He nodded once, and broke eye contact with me, looking down at his desk, which was covered in stacks of papers and notepads, each neatly placed into piles. I walked away towards the door, looking behind me to see that he had taken out a pen, and was marking the first of the large pile of unmarked assignments. By the looks of it, he would be marking for a while. I slipped quietly out of the door, closing it gently behind me, to come face to face with Jackie, whose hair had been let out of its ponytail to fall in soft waves around her face.

"So what was that about?" She asked me in her soft Southern drawl, and I let outv a deep sigh that I hadn't realised that I'd been holding in.

"He apologised to me…" I muttered, almost to myself. I still didn't quite believe it myself.

"He WHAT?!" She replied in shock, stopping in her tracks a look of intense bewilderment on her face. Evidently, she was as surprised as I was.

"Yeah," I continued, holding onto the banister on my way down the stairs, trying to steady myself, "He said that he was sorry for the way that he treated me at the beginning of this week, and I'd proved him wrong with that test."

She raised her eyebrows so high that they disappeared behind her thick bangs.

"Holy shit. I had him last year for one of my classes, and I have never ever seen him admit that he's wrong…"

She was silent for a while, and we walked out of the Maths Building together in quiet.

"Maybe you've broken him."

I snorted in laughter at this.

"Maybe I have."

I found myself unconsciously glancing upwards, my eyes fixing on the window of Professor Spock's classroom, on the second floor of the Maths Building, knowing that he would be in there, alone, surrounded by unmarked papers. I wondered again what had pushed him to apologise to me for his actions. He was right, he had been unfair to me at the beginning, but it was very un-Vulcanlike to actually admit that, Vulcans were creatures of logic, and hated to get anything wrong, so what had driven him to admit it to me?

"Maybe I have."


End file.
